Crimson Death (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter 25)

"The canine teeth are what become fangs after the person changes into a vampire," I said.

"That's Inspector Logan. Please ignore him, Marshal Blake."

I heard Logan make an unhappy noise, but he didn't make a second remark. Pearson outranked him, or someone else in the room did and had taken Pearson's side.

Edward said, in a much more cheerful version of Ted's voice, "Go to the next picture, Anita."

I did what he asked. The fang marks seemed bigger still, but the holes weren't as neat and tidy, so . . . "The marks look even bigger than the last set, but they're also less neat, as if the vampire used more force to bite down, or jerked out more when it stopped feeding, so it could be the same vamp as bite number two."

Pearson asked, "Do you think we can assume that vampire number two is an adult male?"

"With the spacing between fangs you'd probably be safe assuming that, but I've known a few women with exceptionally wide teeth spacing, so it's not a guarantee. The necks all look like women; is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Inspector Logan here . . ."

"Address her by her title," another voice said, and I thought it was a woman.

"Fine, Marshal Blake, this is Inspector Logan. The pictures don't show the Adam's apple; how did you know they were women?"

"I've spent a lot of years looking at fang marks on skin, Inspector Logan. After a while, you just know what you're looking at."

Edward said, "Is there anything else that makes you think male or female, Anita?"

"A lot of vamps prefer to take blood according to their sexual preferences, so most males prefer to feed on women, and a lot of females feed on men, but some new vamps take any victim that they can, just like any other young predator on a learning curve."

"Detective Logan here, Marshal Blake." And there was something in the way he said my title and name that let me know he wasn't happy about it. Or maybe I was being overly sensitive.

Micah looked at me, and the look was enough; he thought the same thing about Logan. Maybe I wasn't being overly sensitive.

"Yes, Detective Logan?"

"Are you saying that gay vampires would feed on same-sex victims?"

"Possibly, but if you've never had vampires in Ireland before, then these may all be very new. So again, they're probably going after whatever victim is easiest. Some women feel safer feeding on other women, even though as a vampire they could beat the shit out of most human men. They never quite get rid of the idea that men are stronger and more dangerous than they are, so they feed almost exclusively on other women regardless of their sexual preference."

"So basically, you don't know anything about these vampires just from the pictures?" Logan said, and he made sure that I heard the disdain.

"I told you that Anita would be more useful in person, Logan," Edward said, holding on to the cheerful Ted voice with effort. Logan had already been a pain in the ass for his voice to struggle like that.

"I don't think we need to fly your girlfriend in, Forrester."

"Logan!" And now I was sure it was a woman.

"That's enough, Luke, and I mean it this time," Pearson said.

"Everyone knows . . ."

"No," Pearson said, and the Irish accent held anger just fine, "everyone does not know, and before you start spreading rumors about a fellow officer, you might want to make certain you know what you're talking about."

"That's how a lot of the rumors get started," I said.

"What, Marshal Blake?"

"One person says something that isn't true, but it's too scandalous not to repeat, and then the rumors feed on each other, and before you know it, everyone knows the truth, even when it's a lie."

"Well said. I'm Inspector Sheridan, Rachel Sheridan." The woman's voice again.

"Glad to almost meet you, Inspector Sheridan," I said.

"You would take her side," Logan said in his sour voice.

"Who got your panties in a twist about me? We've never even met," I said.

"It's me he's mad at," Edward said in a voice that was far more cheerful than the words warranted.

"Why in blazes would I be mad at you?" Logan asked.

"Because you're jealous," Edward said.

"Why would I be jealous of you, Forrester?"

"For the same reason you're going to be jealous of Marshal Anita Blake."

"And why is that?"

"Anita, look at the next picture."

I hesitated for a second, then thought, Why the hell do I care if some cop in Ireland doesn't like me? I moved to the next image and it was another set of fang marks like the last ones, bigger fangs, and this time rough enough that the wounds were jagged around the edges. It made me have to swallow hard and fight off an urge to rub at the scars over my collarbone at the bend of my left arm where the same vampire had worried at me like a dog with a bone. It had almost cost me the use of my arm, but serious physical therapy and devotion to the weight room in the gym had left me better than I had been even before the injury.

"A vampire tried to rip a little and wiggled its fangs in the flesh, deciding if it was going to try to take a bigger bite out of the neck. It looks like a man's neck this time, or a larger woman's."

"It's a different vampire," Logan said, his voice demanding that I believe him.

"Maybe, but I doubt it."

"It's a different style of attack," he said.

"A different style of biting doesn't mean a different vamp, Inspector. The vampire is experimenting, deciding what he prefers. This one was either hungrier with this kill, or he's beginning to like the potential violence of it."

"Potential violence, my arse. He's sinking teeth into their necks. How much more violent can it get?"

"A lot more," I said.

"Go to the next picture," Edward said. His voice was very still with that edge of coldness that was usually close to the surface for him.

I did what he asked, and this time the holes in the side of the neck were huge. I didn't even think fang marks, just holes, as if someone had taken an ice pick, or something like it, and just driven it into the neck as far as it would go.

Micah made a small exhale of breath and reached for my arm. I realized that he might never have seen a vampire attack this violent. He was always so strong, so certain, and dealt with the violence in his life and mine so calmly that sometimes I forgot he hadn't seen everything I had, or vice versa. I was pretty sure there were things happening on his out-of-town trips for the Coalition that would have scared the shit out of me, even if it was just me being scared because of the danger to him and other people I cared about.

I took Micah's hand in mine while I asked the next question. "Who figured out this was a vampire attack and not just a murder with something sharp and pointy?"

"We didn't think vampire, because Ireland doesn't have them," Pearson said.

"Exactly, but someone figured it out."

Edward said, "I did."

"This kind of damage isn't typical for vampires. A lot of police--even here where we know it's a possibility--might have missed this," I said.

"You don't have to be nice to us, Blake."

"I'm being nice to everyone else, Logan. You're just collateral kindness."

"What?"

"Let me just apologize for Logan for the rest of the conversation. It will save time," Sheridan said.

"I don't need you to apologize for me, Rachel."

"Oh, you're going to apologize for yourself. Good man, go ahead," she said, and I could hear the almost-laughter in her voice. Some people rubbed everyone the wrong way, and apparently Logan was one of those, because no one in the room seemed to like him. It made me feel better that he wasn't picking on Edward and me special; he just picked at everybody.

"Keep going through the pictures," Edward said, as if the others weren't really there. Ted played well with others; Edward didn't.

The next picture was worse, as if someone had torn the throat out but didn't quite know what they were doi

ng, so there was a fang mark left to one side of the meat that had been someone's throat.

"The vamp is figuring out how strong they are, and what that strength can do to a human body," I said.

"He's getting a taste for it," Edward said.

"Was that supposed to be a pun?" Logan asked, his voice accusatory.

"No," Edward said, "just accurate. You should try it sometime."

"Try what?"

"Accuracy." That one word was low and cold with anger. What the hell had Logan done to earn that level of anger from Edward?

"Who the hell are you to come into our city and tell us that we aren't accurate enough for you?"

"I didn't say that everyone was inaccurate, Logan, just you."

"You bastard!"